Pitch Perfect is passable but never rises to the level of its influences.
Throughout Pitch Perfect, the head of an all-female a cappella group awkwardly throws around “aca” as a prefix (as in, “Are you questioning my aca-thority?”). It’s one of the film’s many parallels to the (arguable) classic Bring It On, in which Kirsten Dunst’s lead cheerleader throws around “cheer” with reckless abandon. (Sample dialogue: “This is not a democracy; it’s a cheerocracy.”)
Take the structure from the cheerleading classic, throw it in a blender with the satirical absurdism of Dodgeball, then add singing and you’ll end up with something that looks and feels a lot like Pitch Perfect, which coasts by on charm without ever quite rising to the gleeful highs of its spiritual predecessors.
Beca (Anna Kendrick, End of Watch) is a tough-as-nails outsider with dreams of becoming a professional DJ – think Eliza Dushku in Bring It On. When her professor father forces her to postpone her dream in favor of a four-year degree at Barden University, Beca (Yes, it’s spelled with one “c.”) quickly finds herself roped into the cutthroat world of college a cappella.
Along with the requisite band of misfits — including Fat Amy, a plus-sized, foul-mouthed Tasmanian (Rebel Wilson, Bachelorette) — Beca joins The Bellas, an all-female a cappella group perpetually at war with The Treblemakers, the school’s rowdy all-male group. Of course, it’s down to these two groups to win the annual International Championship of Collegiate A Cappella in New York City. Of course, it’s Beca’s job to inject variety into The Bellas’ stale repertoire. Of course, her love interest (Broadway veteran and Dane Cook look-alike Skylar Astin, Girls) is a member of the rival group.
For its part, the film readily mocks its use of cliches. Kay Cannon’s (30 Rock) script (adapted from a book by Mickey Rapkin) is never afraid to get weird, and its forays into gross physical comedy (there are some out-of-left-field vomit scenes) and winking absurdism (supplied by a pair of bantering commentators played by Elizabeth Banks (The Hunger Games) and John Michael Higgins (Wilfred) — think Dodgeball’s Pepper and Cotton) are some of the film’s best moments.
First-time movie director Jason Moore cut his teeth on Broadway (including the filthy puppet musical Avenue Q), and he brings a stage director’s deft touch to the many performance scenes, which are well-choreographed and genuinely exciting, like The Sing-Off after three packs of Fun Dip. Moore has less of a handle on the dramatic moments and the film’s pacing feels awkward as a result, alternately too fast and strangely meandering.
The genuinely talented cast makes the harder-to-swallow moments go down easier, even if no one on-screen ever looks remotely like a college freshman. Kendrick is as endlessly charming here as in everything else she’s done. Wilson makes the most of her weirdo character, contrasting a big physicality with muttered, off-the-cuff one-liners. Her verbal sparring matches with the leader of The Treblemakers (Adam DeVine, doing the same douchebag frat boy shtick he’s perfected on Workaholics) feel loose and improvised.
They offer moments of rough spontaneity in a film that sometimes feels trapped by its own conventions. Pitch Perfect manages to be genuinely fun, but it never feels fresh. Though a worthy spiritual successor to cheesy sports flicks such as Bring It On, it never finds its own voice. It’s aca-okay, but not quite worth cheering about.
bricker@umdbk.com
